24 September 2014

It is not the critic who counts

Hall of Champions, NCAA
This past week brought yet another stellar series by Ken Burns on PBS.  I have been, for some time, a big fan of Teddy Roosevelt.  When weighing the presidents I most admired, Ronald Reagan's star faded from this wide-eyed teenager/college student...a student of politics as much as architecture, as I began life outside of academia.  And the more I learned about TR, the more I saw myself living parallel with his brand of politics.

A number of my friends know this about me, so it came as no surprise last week when my more liberal friends chastised me on TR's imperialism and my conservative friends chastised me on his trust-busting and labor sympathizing roles.  I figure heck, if he managed to make everyone both love and hate him-he had to be all right.

I've never been an athlete.  I've never known the sting of defeat nor the elation of victory in an arena or on the field of play.  I have experienced it in the political arena.  And I have known it in both business and in any number of community endeavors over the last 20 years.  TR had a lot of noteworthy quotes, but one excerpt of a speech he gave in France in 1910, may be his most famous and is certainly my favorite.  I was pleased to see it encircling the rotunda of the NCAA Hall of Champions when we visited Indianapolis this summer.  This is the most quoted portion of the speech:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. 

Several weeks ago an issue arose in our community that pit neighbor against neighbor.  Calmer heads were able to discuss this with a level of civility, but I was taken back by the depth and lack of civility that followed much of the dialogue found on social media outlets and in public meetings.  And what most concerned me was, if this rather small issue can tear at the fabric of our community, what happens when something big comes along?

I feel like we've become a people who find it easy to take a stand, welling up adversity with jarring and often inaccurate words rather than doing the hard work of making our community a better place, understanding issues, and then rolling up our sleeves to make something tangible instead of empty words hurled over the internet for our own satisfaction of reading them on a screen.  And yes, I realize the irony of typing that statement on a blog.  All the same, these critics have not entered the arena, and it would seem TR suggests they simply don't count.  This community needs more than critics on the sidelines, we need doers of deeds.

17 September 2014

Court is in Session

Boone County Courthouse rotunda, Lebanon, Indiana

I try to make a point of visiting county courthouses whenever I land in a county seat I had not previously been in.  Only in the last few years did I make a point of photographing them.  There's a bit of chance involved since you never know what the weather will be, or if the doors will be open.  Here are a few pictures from courthouses I've been in in the last year.  Two are of the Neoclassical trend in architecture at the turn of the century, while the third is of the Romanesque Revival style which became synonymous with courthouse architecture at the end of the 19th century.

Boone County Courthouse, built 1909-1911

Union County Courthouse, Liberty, Indiana

Union County Courthouse, 1890-1891

Union County Courtroom

Carroll County Courthouse, Delphi, Indiana

Carroll County Courthouse, rotunda floor

Carroll County Courthouse rotunda, 1916-1917

10 September 2014

Getting in touch with my "Plain" roots

Hochstetler Reunion at Old Samuel Hochstetler's Farm c. 1850, in 1913
 Earlier this year our preservation organization began discussing what we might do to participate in the state's upcoming bicentennial.  We landed on a concept that would include highlighting the history of one group, and their architecture, that hadn't previously been recorded in the nearly 200 years of our county.  That group is the Amish, who first began to settle here in 1850.  So, someone from the genealogical society set up a meeting with this group's local historian and sent me a message with the place and time.
Samuel Hochstetler barn, 1850
And then I realized that it was the farm of my ancestor, Samuel Hochstetler, that we would be visiting.  This man's son now live in the house with his family.  During our visit the man unrolled a photo I hadn't seen before, of the farmstead and extended Hochstetler family, from 1913.  A grandson, who also had an appreciation for their history, gave me a tour of the house and barn.  What a surreal feeling stepping into the house and barn built by my great, great, great grandfather over 150 years ago.
Jonas Yoder barn detail, 1852
Jonas Yoder farmhouse, c. 1880
We made a return trip to visit with the Amish historian.  This time we wanted to stop and document what remains of the "first families" farms of the Amish community.  There were four farms of the first four Amish families to settle in our county northeast of Bremen.  These are the Samuel Hochstetler, Jonas Yoder, John Borkholder, and Valentine Yoder family farms, along with their Amish school and cemetery.  Samuel's family was the first to arrive in 1850, though a scouting party of the church had come to Indiana in 1841.

At the grave of my great, great, great grandfather-Samuel Hochstetler
The historian also pointed out Samuel's grave-which I had not previously been able to locate because the inscription is long gone.  Of the four original farms, three of the c. 1855 barns remain and two of the original homes; both Samuel's house and barn survive, but the house has been added to.  A third house was the second built by Jonas Yoder, after a fire in about 1880.  That's a pretty good testament to preservation by the Amish community.

03 September 2014

Sumthin' 'bout a truck

On vacation in the rolling hills of Brown County State Park
I've nursed this little Mazda my wife got while in college along for many years, but when the mechanic told me "if you don't put a bullet in it, I will", I figured it was time to pull the trigger.  I've driven it longer than any other car in my life-for nearly 14 years, after it replaced an F-150 I bought when I settled down in River City.

And boy did I ever miss that truck.  More than the Mustang I had in college, did I ever miss that black, F-150 extended cab pick-up truck.  So in late March, when the Mazda was given its death sentence, I kept my eyes open for another truck.  But with the election and work, I never got around to really looking until the end of May.  And then I found it-another black, F-150 extended cab-4-wheel drive.  And I was hooked, though I tried not to let the salesman see it in my eyes as we walked past it and my head turned 180 degrees.

When we landed on a price, and they gave me a trade-in, sight-unseen, I figured I had made out all-right.  And when the Mazda broke down halfway between here and the dealership, and they offered to tow it in, I knew I had made out ok.

The truck looks quite at home here on the farm.  And she's already been everywhere man (reference to a Johnny Cash song):  Indy, Ft. Wayne, lil' Nashville, hauling a kayak to Sugar Creek, Lebanon-and points between.  All of a sudden transporting tables and chairs and my extension ladder to my dad's became so much easier.  And it seems more appropriate to be driving it up the hill behind the barn than the Mazda, may she rest in piece.

29 August 2014

Summer? What summer?

Waiting for the parade to start under the watchful eye of the elephant
 You know that point of time in your life when everything that seems superfluous has to go out the window in order for you to regain some semblance of control?  That's what happened to me, and consequently Hoosier Happenings, at the beginning of May.  It was an incredibly busy Spring with the campaign and then it was as if a dam broke and I was up to my eyeballs in work.  Not complaining by any stretch, but something had to give.

That something was my whole summer.  At least that's what it felt like.  And while I missed blogging, the fact is, I don't know that I had the mental concentration to make even a sloppy attempt at a decent post.  Here's my attempt, after a nearly four-month long hiatus.

May.  May brought with it the primary election for county commissioner, in which I was a candidate among four.  I could bore you with all of the political wrangling that took place, but I won't.  I will tell you that there was no one more surprised than I when the returns came in at the GOP election-watch, and I was on top.  Since the Democrats decided not to slate anyone at the end of June, I stand unopposed in November, and assuming I'll get at least one vote, will be sworn in in January.  I spent three days picking up my signs in May.  I plan to put out a lot less in October.

May also brought our family reunion and the departure of my brother's family for Fiji.  Work opened up for me in Lebanon, Attica, and Zionsville-which required a trip south.....and since I was in the area, it culminated with the first of three trips this summer in a kayak down Sugar Creek.  By the end of the month, I bought a truck.....this too shall be blogged.

June.  The Historic Michigan Road Association, along with the Indiana Lincoln Highway Association, hosted the Indiana Byways Conference for which a reception was held in our barn.  By the end of the month a group of six guys headed back to Sugar Creek and a 2-night stint in a tent.  This time, we saw two eagles.

On vacation in lil' Nashville
July brought parades in Bremen and Culver, marching alongside a massive elephant, and the 4-H fair, handing out snowcones.  Three birthdays.  One vacation which went way too fast.  And many more projects than I could count.  By this point, I realized I was missing summer.  I did have a pretty amazing experience when I walked into my Amish ancestral home, by pure chance.  That story will be blogged.  My wife went to Haiti, and I found another opportunity to kayak Sugar Creek.

At the state fair
August.  I provided presentations at two Indiana Landmarks events, one local event, and accepted National Register certificates on behalf of River City at the state fair.  More projects, which included an investigative trip on the River Queen, the Elkhart River Queen that is.  A return trip with an overnight stay in Lebanon.  Two more birthdays, including our poor old wiener dog who turned 15.  One more parade, in Bourbon.  And by the end of the month I had moved up to a big-boy phone.  I'm still trying to figure out how to use it.  I also went to drainage school and it lived up to my expectations....however, it gave me a chance to see an old friend in Plainfield that I hadn't seen in 3 years.  The new U.S. 31 also opened for traffic....also blog-worthy.  And no, I couldn't escape the ALS ice bucket challenge.

The fall looks almost as busy, but maybe more manageable.  Which should permit me to get back to blogging.  Meanwhile, it's blueberry time around here....and that offers its own busy schedule for parades, parties, and so on.  Have a great Labor Day, remember the worker who built this country, and I'll see you in September.

10 May 2014


Blogging will resume soon.  Many thanks to to good folks of my county for making me the Republican nominee for county commissioner.  On to November.

07 May 2014

Lessons from the campaign trail

First off....for the record....it is 10:10 a.m. on election day.  I've already voted and have no idea what the outcome will be.  I say that because if I win in the Republican primary tonight, I don't want this to come across as gloating.  And if I lose, I don't want this to come across as sour grapes.  This post will go up tomorrow win or lose.  This is intended to be both therapeutic for me and seasoned with humor.

Here are several observations I've made from stumping on the campaign trail.

I should maybe drop my middle name from my campaign literature.  I'm not sure how, but some people get confused that I'm running for the west precinct, or West Township, or some other office related to being in or of "west".  I thank my great-grandfather, Wesley, for the confusion and in turn he can thank John Wesley.

Or maybe I should just change my name to that of a candy bar.  In speaking with one lady at Marbucks (our Martins grocery has a Starbucks in it...hence my name for it), and engaging in several important issues with her, she indicated that one of the other candidates gave her a candy bar so she committed her vote to him.  Based on the issues important to her seems like a bad trade for a candy bar.  I'm not going to buy votes with candy bars.

But I will buy votes with shamrock shakes.  One young man I teach Sunday School with turned 18 several months ago, so I said, John, we need to get you registered to vote.  I offered to help him through the process at the clerk's office and suggested afterward we could grab a cup of coffee or something-thinking it would be great to get to know him a little better.  But, time was of the essence the day he registered, so we just went through the drive-thru and I bought him a shamrock shake.

I attempted a grass-roots campaign with social media.  I now owe over 100 Facebook friends a major party since they met my challenge of 100 shares of my campaign video.  I honestly didn't think it would happen.

Lots of folks have offered to pray for me...and that's great and all....but I sure am hoping the roughly 20 nuns I sat down with to discuss the current state of politics in the county are thinking of me today.  I can't think of a better defensive line, nor can I recall feeling more at home ideologically when we met.  Maybe it was because there was apple pie and coffee involved.  God bless 'em.

Shameless self promotion is a difficult thing for an introvert.

When my wife and I voted, my mother came in the doors to the community hall......without my dad.  "Mom, where's dad?"  I asked.  "I don't know....he was supposed to come with me, but I think he's in Bremen."  My dad avoids things like this....he, along with a LOT of other Hoosiers, don't like to have to declare party affiliation.  It seems like there could be a way around this.  Meanwhile, I've been driving around for the last 3 hours trying to find him to escort him to the polls.

I already know that I have lost the used car lot vote.  If used car lots, mechanics garages, muffler shops, etc. can vote I am in big trouble.  All three of my fellow-candidates are in those lines of work and without hardly an exception these establishments have one or a combination of their political signs.  Notice:  I am in the market for a low-mileage truck....part of the deal includes removing my competition's signs.

Speaking of signs....one thing that has always rubbed me raw is the willful violation of the city and county sign ordinance which prohibits signs from being placed on any public property or right-of-way.  So I am extremely cautious about where my signs go.  The other guys-not so much.  I've never understood how people can vote for someone entrusted to uphold the law when they knowingly break it.  But, hey, sticking to my principles-win or lose.

Adversity builds character.  It also costs a great deal of time and money.  Things like having "late ad" boldly printed over your newspaper ad, the wind mysteriously taking away both signs and wire frames planted a foot into the ground, and finally receiving the Republican mailing list the morning after your mailer landed in voters' mailboxes are all great lessons in character development.

Based on my door to door glad-handing, I may well be related to one-quarter of the county.  Heck, one of my competitors is a cousin.

I can only handle so much fish.  Though last Saturday was a spaghetti supper.  Oddly enough, I was the only politician there but after getting a tongue-lashing from one older gentleman about not attending "HIS church's fish fry", and consequently losing his vote, I figured I had better attend HIS church's spaghetti supper Saturday night.  The supper was a benefit for the church.  On Monday morning I saw him at Marbucks.  I asked "Hey, why weren't YOU at YOUR church's spaghetti supper?"  The other old folks at the table got a good laugh out of that one.

What would you expect to be the most frequently asked question on the campaign trail?  Taxes?  Roads?  Economic development?  Nope.  Not even close.  The most frequently asked question was "How are you going to be able to get along with those other commissioners?"  Telling.

Some folks were disinterested during my door to door campaigning.  Only one was hostile.  I apologized and told my mom that I would be back to pick the kids up later.

One lady was truly confused.  She let me know that she had already voted for someone else but couldn't understand how I could be on the Republican ticket.  She said "Aren't you a democrat?!"  I said, nooo.  She said "Well you used to be a democrat!"  I said, nooo...you must have me confused with someone else.  Still with a bit cross and confused look in her face I said "Well-the Republican mayor appointed me to the plan commission way back, and then I ran and won my city council seat on the Republican ticket."  Hoping that would persuade her.  Then she said her name.  Ooops....oh yeah....her husband and I differed on a pretty major issue 14 years ago and I didn't tow the party line.  That's me-guilty as charged.

Fortuitous and timely.  That describes my visit to the assisted living facility the day before they voted.  My wife says I have a great rapport with older folks.  I think it's because I have an old soul.  And I also have an exhaustive wealth of useless historical information about most towns and buildings in a 20 mile radius.

While on the trail....I asked if one individual would vote for me.  He countered with "did you vote for me?"  I wanted to so badly ask if that was his litmus test because I'm thinking he might have been surprised by a few answers he would have gotten from others.

I have avoided "gauntlet style" campaigning where one would lay in wait for unsuspecting voters going in or out of a fish fry or other venue.  I would much rather go in and break bread with neighbors and friends and get to know a handful who may or may not vote for me.  To me, that's what building community looks like.  It may not win elections-but it is better for the soul.

Finally-there are good people all throughout our county with some really wonderful stories.  I'll be humbled either way tonight when the results come in.  If I lose, that will be a humbling experience for certain....but if I win, or lose for that matter, I will be and have been humbled by the kind words and support that I've been shown by folks who I've gotten to know recently or have known for years.  And it makes me wonder if people just talked with each other......if we just worked together......how much better our communities would be.

24 April 2014

Sometimes it's the receiving

Better to give than to receive, right?

Last week while out glad-handing and kissing babies in Bourbon and Argos (ok, I didn't kiss any babies, but I did pat a toddler on the head), I stopped on my way between the two communities at a home of an old friend in Tippecanoe Township.  I had been pushing my campaign paraphernalia off on poor folks as I knocked on doors and planted signs on their main streets, but didn't bother to take anything with me at this stop.  I left the car running because I doubted she would be home, but she was, and she invited me in to sit awhile.

As I was getting ready to leave she said that she had something to give me that had been presented to her late husband, a fellow I had worked with when I first began my civic career, a long time ago.  She pulled the neatly folded package out of a drawer in his former office and I could hardly believe my eyes.  Just the night before, as a friend was photographing Old Glory near our front door, I thought to myself....gee...I kinda need a Marshall County flag.  And that's what she unwrapped.

She said she thought I would appreciate it, tearing up.  Which of course began to make me tear-up as I relayed my thoughts from the previous night.  She said it was meant to be then.  Their son became a friend of mine who helped me do some renovation work on our house in town.  He literally worked for franks and beans.  A good guy all the way around.

I left with the flag, pointed my car west and drove into Argos where another sign was planted overlooking the town park, where a few bones of my ancestors were left when it was converted from a burial ground to a park in the 1920s.  I then walked the downtown and visited the barber who set up shop a long time ago in the building that housed my great-grandmother's dress shop, and then visited another merchant who relayed some tough things going on in her life.  By the time I got home that night my heart was pretty full, though my stack of flyers hadn't greatly decreased.  I much prefer this style of campaigning, when I receive a lot more than I hand out.

22 April 2014

The little school on the Summit

View to the southwest from the top of the cemetery
In Tippecanoe Township, of Marshall County there's a place where Highway 10 makes a steep climb above the Tippecanoe River valley below.....it is known as the Summit, the edge of a glacial moraine. And on the Summit in 1844, the township's first burial ground began, along with the township's first school and church. From this point you can get a magnificent 270 degree panoramic view of the valley below you, and it's quite something to imagine the pioneers looking down on Chief Benack's village of Pottawatomie camped near the Tippy to the south.

Summit School, c. 1865

The first school was a log structure that burned and was replaced with a frame building in about 1865. It's been told that windows on the west side of the building were closed in because children were too distracted with funerals in the cemetery around the building; having been on the hill during a cold west wind, I think it may have been for other reasons! And it's also rumor, undocumented, that an Indian brave who was a scout for the U.S. Cavalry is buried in the cemetery. Tyler McWhorter, who died in 1858, was a veteran of the Mexican War. While the little white schoolhouse has gone through some renovations that removed the bell tower and added the front vestibule, it still embodies life in pioneer days. A faithful group of volunteers cared for the structure for many years after school consolidation, and today, having been restored by a local organization, the building has invited school children, young and old, and community folk back for ice cream socials and chili suppers.

The schoolhouse was rededicated in 2002 with over 120 people in attendance, including three former students......one coming from Florida, who was the last pupil to attend through the 8th grade. Today just one of those pupils is with us.  The Summit School & cemetery were placed on the National Register of Historic Places in June of 2008.  Many more years to her!
Tyler McWhorter's gravestone

16 April 2014

Symbol of Sacrifice

The cross represents so much, doesn't it?  In it we find hope, redemption, love, that constant reminder of salvation in all its splendor and glory.  Of course, we understand all this would be impossible without the sacrifice made by God in His son, Jesus Christ.  And we understand how Christ laid down his life-this sacrificial act that brought us redemption.

I wonder, though, do we see the beauty in the cross as a symbol of sacrifice?  And what does that mean for us if we choose to "take up the cross" and follow Christ.  I think it's a stake in the ground for daily living in sacrifice.  In giving up our rights....and that's a painful thought, isn't it?

Through Christ's sacrifice we find life.  It would seem true that in our own personal sacrifices that new life can also be found.  The act of laying down your life, or rights, and the expectations you have in your life, if sacrificed, might produce the new life-a better life-than we could imagine for ourselves.  And most certainly through our sacrifice, new life for those around us.  Christ understood His sacrifice was for us; for whom or what should we make this sacrifice?  Daily nonetheless.

Through the years I've seen the cross in many different lights, but I tend to want to keep it up on the wall behind the pulpit where it can be safely admired from a distance.  I've never fully invited the cross to thrust through my spirit in a way that I think is demanded of us.  It's hard...because it casts a long shadow over the things I think are best for me, though they must pale in comparison to what God wants for me.  The cross is only beautiful because we understand what it led to....what was on the other side of death.  Life.

This Easter, and moving forward, I want my life to demonstrate the cross.  Not around my neck or tattooed on my arm, but I want it to become more powerful than my own will.  I want the cross to fill my spirit and pierce my heart until my will flows out like the blood and water from my Savior's side.  In that sacrifice can real life be found.

14 April 2014

Marshall County: My Hometown

Our family on closing day, 1996
Somewhere along in my life I started to realize that I never had that strong connection I heard peers or adults talk about in relationship to growing up in their hometowns.  I lived a ways outside of town and was transported some distance to attend a private school in Plymouth throughout my high school years.  I didn't have Friday nights at the grid iron, nor the hardwoods.  The community I knew revolved around my small high school, with kids from all parts of the county, and our family business which was a local hub of sorts for farmers, firemen, and the like.

Yet, as my wife can attest, I have this strong connection to Marshall County.  And as blogged earlier, I am running for county commissioner, so there probably is a bit of campaign stumping embedded in this post.  I think there are two reasons for this connection.....something that I think comes across when I talk with people.

Community at Garners Truck Stop
The first is related to my roots.  As my kids know all too well, we can't hardly drive down a country road before I'm pointing out where their forefathers lived.  Our roots go deep in the soil.  In North Township, my ancestors first settled in the 1840s.  In German Township, they settled in the 1830s.  In Walnut Township, they came in the 1840s.  In Green Township, they arrived in the 1860s.  And the family lived in Culver and the Tyner area during the 1930s-50s.  And then my mom, a Bremen girl, and my dad, a LaPaz boy, met at my grandparents' truck stop-Garners.  Then it was my turn to establish a family and I married a Plymouth girl and we began raising our family on Michigan Street.  Being a guy maybe a bit too consumed by history, I can't help but recognize that it wasn't one town that made this man-but I owe a great debt to this collective place I call home.  There's something that gets in the spirit of a person when they understand the blood, sweat and tears left on the soil by their ancestors.  To be surrounded by nearly 200 years of that humbles a guy and makes him want to do his part in building this place for future generations.

The second reason I think I feel this deep connection is maybe because of what I lamented at the beginning.  Thrown into a small school made up of kids from Culver, Argos, Tyner, LaPaz, Bourbon, and Plymouth made me realize the rivalries that far too often go beyond the basketball court, didn't translate within our friendships.  Which then led to hanging out at the Culver drive-in and going to their theater, grabbing supper at the Log House in Argos, or spending many a Friday nights in Plymouth.  Add to that, traversing country roads in and out of every little hamlet and burg, and soon it began to feel like all of Marshall County was my hometown.  Now, I have great memories of going to LaPaz School and the Church of God, and in many respects, Bremen felt like home since we did most of our shopping there, including getting my haircut at Don the barber's.  But the broader appreciation, and the ghosts if you will, from having spent my growing up time in each of our communities, spurs a greater devotion to make sure we all are succeeding.  We might not always agree or see things the same way, but we truly are stronger together.

If a guy can claim a whole county as his hometown, I'd like to stake that claim.  The memories, the history, and working with others over the last 20 years blurs the lines on the map.  In the words of Rodney Atkins, "These are my people, this is where I come from.  We're givin' this life everything we got and then some."

10 April 2014

The Schroeder Family of North Township

The Robert Schroeder Family
Here's a little history (ok, a lot of history) on the family who developed our farm:

Robert Schroeder, Sr. was born in Dearborn County, Indiana on October 27, 1815 to Peter and Nancy Lyons Schroeder.  This was one year prior to Indiana being granted statehood.  Peter was born in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania on November 11, 1786 to Nicholas and ____ Schroeder.  Peter’s parents had emigrated from Prussia in 1785 and settled in Schuylkill County, PA.  Nicholas was born in Prussia in 1745 and died in 1819 in Virginia.  He was a Lutheran minister who moved briefly to Dearborn County, Indiana before returning to Virginia.  They had two children:  Peter and John.

Peter Schroeder married Nancy Lyons in Dearborn County, Indiana in 1812.  Nancy’s parents emigrated from England, first settling in Virginia then moving to Indiana.  Peter and Nancy Schroeder had seven children:  Susanna, Robert, Eliza (Cummins), Peter, Jessee, John, and Joel.  They moved to Rush county in 1820, then to Clinton County in 1831.  Eliza (1817-1884) married David Cummins in Clinton County; they moved to Marshall County in October, 1834.  David Cummins was described as one of the oldest citizens of North Township, having always lived in sight of where he first located (McDonald, 1881).  The Cummins lived just northeast of the Schroeders, on the first road north of the Schroeder Farmstead.  Jessee Schroeder moved to Iowa during the early 1830s, but relocated to Marshall County with his wife, Emily, in 1833, settling along the Michigan Road, but then after 1860 moved to a farm in Polk Township.

Peter Schroeder and Robert Schroeder came to the area that would become Marshall County first in 1832 for exploration purposes.  The two dug ginseng and gathered cranberries to sell to markets in Logansport and Lafayette (History of Indiana, Marshall County Edition, Vol. 2, 1890).  The two spent a few months in the area then returned to Clinton County.  Robert was so pleased with the area that he returned in September, 1833, and settled near the location of the farmstead; he resided in the county for the remainder of his life.  When Robert settled in the county there were only two white families living in the county:  Samuel Taber (his son, Cyrus, was the first white child born in the county on June, 26, 1833), and Charles Ousterhaut.  Both families settled in the spring of 1832 and lived south of Plymouth.  Upon arriving in the county Robert was employed as a superintendent of construction by contractors opening the Michigan Road through Plymouth and some distance north and south of the town; he also assisted in constructing the first bridge across the Yellow River in Plymouth (McDonald, 1881 & 1908). The 1876 Illustrated Atlas states that Robert and Jesse Schroeder (brothers) settled along the line of the Michigan Road in 1832 and were the only white inhabitants in the area until 1835 when the remainder of the lands was open for settlement.

Siblings, c. 1910, prior to dredging Brush Creek
In 1834 Robert was joined by the remainder of his father’s family.  Peter located on Michigan Road lands a three miles north of Plymouth.  This appears to be on Section 9 of Michigan Road lands in North Township, in the vicinity or partly located on the original Robert Schroeder Farmstead.  The Hoosier Homestead awarded to the Schroeder Farmstead in 1977 stated that the farm had been in the family since 1833, indicating a portion of it had been the land on which Robert Sr. settled when he first came to the county (Farmers Exchange, June 17, 1977).  A quit claim suit in 1935 names Peter Schroeder (first, January 17, 1837) and successive owners of the “south part of the north half of the northwest fractional quarter of Section 9 of Michigan Road Lands by Galeman Dexter.  This would appear to be on the east side of Michigan Road, and the south side of 5B Road, an area where it is reported that Peter and Robert operated a cooper shop in the mid 1830s (Marshall County Genealogical Society Library Links, Summer 2011).  Peter Schroeder (Sr.) was present at the organization of the county in 1836, being appointed one of two first associate judges when the first term of court was organized in October, 1836 (1876 Illustrated Atlas); he continued in that role until 1843.  Peter was also listed in estry papers in 1838, having found a cow on his property.  Nancy Lyons Schroeder died in 1846 and was buried at Fairmount Cemetery, just north of the farmstead along the Michigan Road.  Peter (Sr.) died on November 15, 1868 and was also buried at Fairmount Cemetery (Marshall County Republican, Vol. 13, November 26, 1868).  Their son Joel, aged 15 years, 8 months, and 26 days, died on November 20, 1840 and was also buried at the Fairmount Cemetery.  This would have been one of the earliest interments at the cemetery.

Robert, in conjunction with Mr. Packard, erected the first sawmill in the county on Pine Creek in what would become Polk Township in 1835, as well as a log hut in which he resided during that time.  Robert Schroeder’s first home was described as a log cabin that had been built on what was the Frank Martin farm in the 1920s; this is located in the northwest corner of the intersection at Black Bridges (LaPaz: First 100 years).  The saw mill was abandoned.  Robert returned to central Indiana to marry Catherine Driskill on February 1, 1836 in Tippecanoe County.  Catherine was born on January 28, 1817 to William and Elizabeth Driskill in Clinton County, Ohio.  Robert became the North Township Constable in 1837 and held the office of County Commissioner from 1849-1851.  In 1840 both Robert and Peter Schroeder are listed as heads of households in Marshall County.  And in 1843 both are listed under a tax duplicates list for North Township.

Robert and Catherine were the parents of nine children, three of whom died in infancy.  The children who grew to maturity are John (b. 1838), Caroline (Thompson) (b. 1841), Mary (b. 1844), Susanna (Byers), Catherine (Trowbridge) (b. 1852), and Robert Jr. (b. 1860).  Two children who bore their father’s parents’ names, Peter and Nancy, died December 26, 1857 (age 1 year, 7 months, and 11 days) and November 16, 1850 (age 1 year, 8 months, and 8 days) respectively.  They are buried next to each other at the Fairmount Cemetery.  The name of the third child, its’ death and burial location is unknown, but likely it occurred prior to 1850, and likely it was buried at Fairmount.

In the 1850 census Robert is listed as a farmer and head of household in North Township.  His wife, Catherine, and children John (12), Caroline (9), Mary, Susana, and Nancy are also listed.  John was called the second white child born in the county in a news article reporting his death in 1925 (Plymouth Pilot, November 3, 1925); his birth would have been in 1838 and the article stated that his family had settled near Burns Bridge.  Robert, along with his brother John and Mr. Woodward (also from the area) left for California to mine for gold in 1852; they returned in 1855.  The same year the Marshall County Agricultural Society was formed “chiefly through the efforts of Robert Schroeder” and two other men (1876 Illustrated Atlas).  In 1857 Robert became a Wesleyan Methodist minister and in 1858 he was admitted to the Marshall County Bar.  He made a lucrative business of drafting legal documents.

The house, as it pretty much looks today too
The 1860 census lists Robert Schroeder Sr. as the head of household in North Township.  Catherine, his wife, and children Caroline, Mary, Catherine, Susan, and Robert, Jr. are also listed.  From 1860 to 1868 Robert Sr. engaged again in the mill and lumber business.  The family moved into their new homestead in 1867; it was located on a parcel containing just over 150 acres.  In 1870 the family is listed in the North Township census with children Mary, Catherine, Robert, and grandson Edward who was Mary’s son (born in 1862) and retained the Schroeder name.  Farmhands and maid William Wilkinson, Joshua Bryan, and Margaret Middleton, also resided with the family.  Robert Sr. was elected Justice of the Peace for North Township in 1874 and held the office for four years.  When the Old Settlers’ Society of Marshall County formed in 1878 he was unanimously elected President, since he was the oldest resident in the county at that time.  He was also a Notary Public from 1858 into the 1880s.

The 1880 census lists the family with children Mary and Robert Jr. still residing at home, along with grandson Edward.  Jane Wade, a maid, was also living with the family.  In 1880 Robert Sr. ran for the office of State Representative; he lost by only 331 votes.  Robert Sr. was a staunch Republican, having originally aligned himself with the Whig party then gravitating to the Republican Party when the Whig party dissolved.  He was also a firm promoter of the Temperance Movement.  Robert Sr. drew up a will on November 26, 1886, naming Robert Jr., and Edward, his grandson, at co-executors.  The will provided that the entire estate be left to his wife Catherine in the event of his death, with a stipend of $50 annually to Mary as long as she remained unmarried.  In the event that Catherine would die first, the entire estate was to be divided equally between Robert Jr. and Edward, and again, provide for the annual stipend to Mary.  Robert Sr. indicated that his other children were remembered by advancements he had made.

Their daughter Susanna, who had married Jacob Byers and moved to Iowa, made yearly trips back to the farmstead to visit the family.  She struggled with an illness in 1887 and thought a trip to the comforts of her native home would improve her health.  She instead died at the Schroeder Homestead on September 12 of that year, with her parents by her bedside.  She was buried at Fairmount Cemetery.

The mother, Catherine, died on March 14, 1890.  The location of her death was not mentioned in the obituary, but it is assumed she was at the homestead.  The obituary complimented Catherine by stating that the “hospitality of the Schroeder Household is known to almost every person in the county”.  She left behind her husband, three daughters, two sons, 26 grandchildren, and eight great grandchildren.  Services were held at the Fairmount United Brethren Church and she was buried at Fairmount Cemetery.  Robert Sr. died at his home on Tuesday afternoon of August 7, 1894 after being ill for several weeks, only able to sit in a chair “day and night”.  His funeral service was also held at the Fairmount United Brethren Church, and he was buried next to his wife.  At the time of his death he was called the oldest settler of Marshall County.  Their tombstone is inscribed with “first white settler of Marshall County.”

John Schroeder, the eldest son of Robert Sr., married Mary Abshire (b. 1843) in 1861.  They are listed in the 1870 census for North Township with the following children:  Milroy (possibly also known as James) (b. 1862), Mary (b. 1865), Sarah (b. 1867), and William (b. 1869).  William was a private with company M, 157th, IVI, in the Spanish American War; he died in the war.  There are two J. Schroeder residences listed on the 1880 North Township plat map.  One contains 80 acres and is immediately south of the Robert Schroeder Sr. farmstead.  The other contains 82 acres and is located just west of the Michigan Road, west of the Schroeder farmstead; the latter was owned by Carrie Schroeder in 1908.  These could be John, the son, or John the brother to Robert.  Both John (presumably the son) and Robert Sr. created a mortgage for the property south of the farmstead in 1876; likely the son built the homestead on that property that appears in the 1880 plat.  John, the son, was estranged for his wife for several years prior to his death in 1925.  He died at the county home at which he had been a resident since 1919; he was buried at Oakhill Cemetery in Plymouth.  Mary died in 1933 and was also buried at Oakhill.

Robert Sr.’s daughter, Catherine Trowbridge, died in 1928 and was also buried at Oakhill Cemetery.  Edward, the grandson who inherited an equal half of the estate, constructed a home further east of the homestead in about 1900, on the same side of the road.  Edward died in 1919 and was buried at Oakhill; his wife, also named Carrie, died in 1964.  Edward and Carrie’s children were E. Naomi (Stoneburner) (b. 1901), Olive R. (Dodson) (b. 1904), and Clarice E. (b. 1906).

After Edward’s death the jointly owned property, owned by his heirs and Robert Jr.’s heirs, was divided.  Edward’s heirs received the easternmost 40 acres of the farmstead and the south half of the acreage owned west of the railroad.  The remainder went to Robert’s heirs.  The division of land, included in the abstract, stated that Robert Jr. and Edward had jointly erected two dwellings and one barn on the farmstead.  A verbal agreement between the two men resulted in a general division of the land for farming and a general division of the barn for each to use half.  The house occupied by Edward Schroeder was to be removed from the lands that would be divided to Robert Schroeder Jr.’s heirs, and to vacate his half of the barn without doing damage to the barn.  If the men jointly erected the existing barn on the property, it likely was constructed during the 1880s.  The second dwelling constructed by the men mentioned in the abstract may have been a small farmhand quarters on the property, possibly used by Robert Jr. until his father’s passing when he moved his family into the homestead.

Robert Schroeder Jr. married Carrie Kleckner (b. 1871) on February 2, 1888.  They took up residence in the homestead, possibly prior to his parents’ death.  They were listed in the 1900 North Township census with their children:  Agnes (b. 1891), Veva (Basset), and Lynda (Thomas).  By 1910 two other children were listed with them:  Mildred (Boggs) and Kenneth (b. 1906).  Carrie’s brother, Harry and his wife, Maude Kleckner, and Carrie’s mother, Malinda, were also living with them.  They had a number of boarders:  Samuel Zile, Otto Dock, Ben Farel, John Anderson, Herbert Espach, Cliff Sanseman, Frank Whitner, John Williamson, George Barber, and George Moslander.  A speculative interurban line was being constructed through the Schroeder farmstead during this time and the census states that at least two of these men were working on the “electric road”.  The others were denoted with “odd jobs”, possibly farmhands.

Robert Schroeder Jr. died in 1917 and was buried at Oakhill Cemetery.  The same year two of his daughters, Lynda and Agnes, moved to South Dakota to teach.  Lynda met William Thomas in South Dakota and was married there in 1918.  Their only child, Robert, was born there on July 31, 1920.  The mother, Carrie, died in 1933 and was buried next to her husband.  Their son Kenneth, who remained a bachelor, became the sole resident of the homestead.  Kenneth made improvements to the barn in 1926; his initials “KWS” and “1926” are inscribed in the concrete on the west wall of the basement.  Agnes, who also remained unmarried, received the homestead from Kenneth in 1938.  Kenneth died in 1944 and Agnes died in 1947.  Both are buried at Oakhill.

Lynda Thomas’s family moved back to Marshall County on March 20, 1940 and took up residence in the homestead.  William and Lynda Thomas began raising beef cattle on the farmstead, which they increased to over 200 acres.  Their son, Robert “Bob” married Dorothy Carothers on June 7, 1944, who grew up on the farmstead immediately south of the Schroeder farmstead (the home fronts the Michigan Road).